


Second Breath's Wake

by psycheTerminal



Category: Exalted
Genre: Gen, Infernals, Lunars, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Sidereals, dragonbloods, malfeas, scarlet empire, yu shan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 04:05:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1536878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psycheTerminal/pseuds/psycheTerminal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A displaced people. Women exalted. A Realm in shambles with their Empress missing. An epic of a maiden, a Sorceress, a child warrior, a people cut off from their deity and the repercussions of their actions and choices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Breath's Wake

Chapter 1: Descending Fire  
Written by: psionichelmsman  
 _Exalted is property of CCP, Onyx Path Publishing, White Wolf and its writers. No claim of ownership of any intellectual properties except the original characters are made by the writer. Share alike-no money should be made off this work. The writer only does it for fun and practice and has made no money on the project. The writing is based clearly on 2e/2.5e but some liberties have been taken for the sake of writing. No dice were harmed in the making of this fanfiction. This disclaimer applies to the whole of the work and will not be repeated atop each chapters. No character or event resembles real persons or events and if it does, that's pretty weird and coincidental. Moreover, the views and opinions expressed by the characters are not the views and opinions of the writer. Cross-posted to FF.net under psionichelmsman.  
_

* * *

They believed her to be a goddess. The woman was called ' _Wanderer'_ , ' _Walker_ ' and ' _Mother Keeper_ '. She had earned the name ' _Featherblade Talya_ ' long ago to their reckoning, but not too long to the people who had given her the means and skills to take the small people into her hands. Once every eight years on a new moon in the spring, the small land's capitol would hold a grand melee, where the usual rules did not apply. The last year's moon champion was a young woman, who'd elected to dress and act as a man, even proclaiming engagement to a fellow woman.

In the Wanderer's chair the champion sat in judgment in her place. The goddess was roaming the land as she always did in summer, seeking her consort and other half, or so it was said. Attending the champion was one of the featherfolk. He was a middle-aged fellow with unassuming plumage and a silver torc with sun and moon at its knobs where the chain of stars hung in its narrow gap-jewelry worn by the married among both human and featherfolk. Five generations since they had joined together it had been, under the aegis of their goddess and it seemed that they were still changing.

A group of representatives from the refugees stood before the champion's chair, some clearly fearful before the barbarians. Their clothes had but dirty rags, though it was clear that it had once been humble and well ornamented when they'd arrived. They had been given both rough but serviceable clothes-what peasants, serfs or fortunate slaves might wear-as well as cloth and other things to make better things. The featherman beside her pointed out notable individuals and told him short reports about what had been observed about them.

The leader, a hawk-faced but brave youth stood straighter than most of their fellows. A green cloth was tied around their throat and reports from the guards set over their camps had brought Oyo certain whispers. "Are you turning us out?" They asked grimly.

_Girl probably; Young and wanted to be left alone_ ; the champion determined. "No, I believe your story. It fits with what Mink Woman's lieutenant told us. As far as we, the wicker council can tell, a good day for the Jet Villages turned into a bad day for your people; for being a day late and an obol short, we must offer sincere condolences and back it up with an offer. We do not just say sorry and hope it will turn out well-we do something to make up for mistakes."

He found it strange how natural this sort of thing felt. It was said that champions were blessed favorites of the gods, particularly the Mother Keeper. No champion yet had been a tyrant, puppet or milkpap. In fact, champions seemed humbled by the experience and few so far had tried to enter another grand melee. Oyo doubted he would either, even with the freedoms it had granted him. "So what is this offer?" The leader pressed boldly towards the champion, even afraid as they stepped forward to Oyo.

Oyo put on his leader's face. "You will join our nation. For four years, your neighbors will train you, help you build anew and offer a faith that will see you do well in these lands. We will not put any out who turn down the religious instruction, unlike the Realm, we have freedom of conscience. Most people here revere the gods of the land, with the Mother Keeper as our patroness and the great sun, moon and maidens above them. The dragons are not quite great gods but we honor them as divine as well."

Oyo watched a few burst into grateful weeping openly. "We will help you set up where you please, with advisements on area hazards in the fifth year. After that, you are on your own for keeping up. You may choose to join any village; any person under sixteen without parents may be adopted by either human or featherfolk and are free to complain if they are treated wrongly. Do not waste our time with trivial complaints." The leader flushed at that pronouncement-younger than Oyo had supposed, but he was not all that surprised. Struggle often forced children to grow up fast.

"It is up to any individual to leave, without bond or let with such belongings as they wear and can carry. We will provide care for the old and infirm, but we do not allow the mentally infirm pass on their infirmity, unless it was by accident, not birth. We have healers and laity of local gods and they will accept apprentices who are willing and are able to pass their training.

"Above all-" Oyo looked each of them in the eyes. "Thieves and bandits lose fingers the first time, their heads the second. Rapists are buried alive with a carved spear over their grave and slavers are made serfs themselves and set to hard labor. Remember that. We will treat you fairly and with respect, for you have earned your freedom and respect by fighting for it."

The leader bowed. "There are a lot of orphans." They informed in a calm voice.

The featherfolk attendant bent closer to the champion's ear. "Master Oyo, if I may make a suggestion?" He spoke softly.

He listened to the featherman's suggestion and sat straighter, smiling for the first time in the thing. "I, Miwofe Oyo personally will see to the training of the youth that led you all to freedom. My wife will act as your mother, I will act as your father and master in training for your future profession-if you'll have us."

The youth looked flabbergasted and utterly shocked. "I-I will."

In a moment that he could not tell if it came from him or inspiration from the moon chair, he spoke without thought: "Tell us the name you will be called by."

The youth looked blank a moment, but grew determined. "Sunwolf. For the sun was my friend and I walked as far as any wolf."

Curious. "Then so be it. A full two turnings of the moon will be taken to place your people with those who will help them heal more and train, now that the quarantine is done. When that is done, we shall set a feast-the Walker should be able to preside over the feast at that time."

The leader seemed to relax at that. Oyo still pondered the story he'd heard and what their patron would make of it. He also wondered about the rumors surrounding it.

_Elsewhere:_ A Thing was being held and a Chosen of Ebon sat near a Chosen of Malfeas, one with the seemingly ignoble title of Rat, the other with the title Thunderer, called Shandiàn Huā by her fellows. Each of these names is followed by more titles, for they were Green Sun Princes and fellows after a kind, for some 20 years. Though neither would presume to call it friendship nor admit it, friendship it was and a fast one. Rat had an advantage to start with, though only Shandiàn Huā knew the secret of it. Little did they know, it was a continuation of a comradery that had abided since the earliest days of exaltation. Neither would believe such a thing-after all, they were not friends.

Rat seemed very small indeed aside the tall, broad woman but it served his purpose. She was tall and muscular, he looked extremely ordinary to the point of being easily missed in a crowd. He scanned the crowd without looking for anything in particular. "Well, well. What's that bastard of shadows doing edging towards the Silent Wind?" He was in word, an irreverent sort; enjoying jibes, wit and biting charm was his nature, in this life and others. "He's planning something."

"Who knows-and how do you know?" She asked quietly as he looked over there.

He surprised her with a relatively straight answer. "His human-form jouten has some clear tells I've identified over the years in that form-he might cultivate them, even, so he can fake and mislead people as he wishes." The thief grinned at her. Some thought that he had a strange accent but didn't know or quite connect where it was actually from, though admittedly it was far less thick now than when he'd first Exalted. She knew and kept it to herself.

"Right. So, he has somethi-oh and she moves out of his way." He chuckled and fixed the cap and bandana he affected. "Oho-he is not after her but the jouten of She Who Lives In Her Name. I _do_ wonder."

There was a duel fought on the brushed sands now punctuated with their movements, between an enraged fellow and a rather deathly calm one. Shandiàn Huā quietly bet on the calm one. She was amused by the insult of the calmer Prince using the flat of his sword to paddle the fighter on the buttocks, the Thing roaring in laughter. The duelists circled one another. "He leaves pleased." Rat updated her. "And she goes to the Brass Dancer. _Most_ curious."

"What do you make of it, oh wise vermin?" She gives him a dubious glance.

He smiled wider at her question, looking a small bit mad. "You will have a new brother or sister soon, Shandiàn Huā if my guess is not too far off the mark."

She gave a hollow laugh. "Ha! What use does a shadow have for a warrior of that kind?"

"We shall see!" He delighted, turning towards the fight.

She adjusted the straps of her harness, the heavy warhammers still hanging at her sides. Few men bothered with twinned hammers, but the Slayer was whispered to be the strongest woman born of her generation and one of the strongest alive. None knew if she was the strongest and none cared to find out. "-and now you are planning something. Are you going to dig at this? It cannot end well to meddle in this affair." She warned him, though she knew she couldn't exactly talk him out of it.

He made what she thought of as a thoughtful sound, playing with his tones like a child. "If I cause a little chaos and spirit the unfortunate soul to more private grounds to gestate, why I am only doing a service to the demon city, aren't I? I am _certain_ it will not be too troublesome if I am wrong." He smirked.

"This nose of yours always sniffs out trouble, little vermin." She tweaked said nose and then rolled her eyes with a sigh. "I suppose you might want me to stand at your fool back-As usual."

He bowed. "No contention here! And you will acquiesce, as usual. It'll be fun; you'll find sweet young things to keep in your bedchambers, paying homage to mistress with cries for sweet release while I'll have my satisfactions met."

The Slayer wore a look of long-sufferance. "A pity I can't just kill you, vermin."

He stayed smiling the same lazy grin, chuckling. "More's the pity you refuse my offers, time and again, get of whores."

They traded insults as the Thing concluded and parted ways with particularly ribald and violent comments not suited for Creation but parted with smiles and hearty laughter once each thought themselves out of the other's earshot. She started off to wait on the edge of the eternal desert while he followed the movements of Lillun. He chose to pay tribute as his cover, a ragdoll of whisper-soft silk brocade was given and he sat at her side and stroked her hair and whispered in loving tones, praising her incomparable beauty and sweetness.

He was not disturbed when one of the Pyrian's thousands-strong orbs came forth with a neomah at her metaphorical heels and parted to just within sight, sharp eyes still plucking out detail at that distance. The ritual of grasping the Exaltation was done, the neomah setting forth quickly. Using a path he could take with ease, he gave chase to the demon without seeming to. Out of the city, across the tainted depths, into the lands of creation the two went, quarry and follower. Shandiàn Huā followed soon enough behind them once he crossed from Malfeas to creation.

Each was glad of the other's company when they ran across a strong, well-armed body of Realm soldiers, a mixed company including a number of Dragonblooded-though mighty, if the demonic Exalted made themselves known, they were still quite heavily outnumbered and they not what their self-chosen mission was about. The neomah stayed at the outskirts, never drawing near but following the flow of fate nonetheless.

The large band escorted a caravan of goods, including qat-steeped slaves, the aroma of marijuana and despair also rising up from them in equal measure. The neomah gave neither any look. In spite of the soldiers, the neomah did not look at any of them. Instead, the demon gazed up at the canyon walls the caravan would have to pass through. The cliff-dwellers that had risen up the past two generations had put up with passage through their lands but perhaps not anymore.

Nearby and on higher ground than the Realm soldiers, Mink Woman waited on the bluffs, a great destiny on her shoulders that she was not yet aware of. She'd gathered the best hunters and warriors of the Mudhouse people and the best archers and hunters she could get in the nearby Jet Villages who'd had enough of the Realm and its satrapy abuses and taxes. Each had a mink or ermine tail hanging from their clothes, caps or shields, such as they were. If she succeeded, the clay-house makers would join the Jet Villages. She was a pretty woman in face, her body lithe. She'd been called Litttle Star as a child, choosing that name upon becoming a woman in the ways of her particular village. Her kinked hair was a dark color that couldn't decide if it was black, her skin a lovely shade like earth with plenty of clay, a favored color among them and her eyes a nice yellow-green. Uncommon but not rare.

Their chances were not good for a victory. Mink Woman knew that it would not work with typical strategies but she wasn't looking to _win_. The barbarian wanted to confuse and raid, with an eye on the slaves in particular. She made the signal by starting the pitch fire. Like magic, the ground before the advance troops turned out false, the dirt-covered and fragile backed clay brick giving way to bog and quicksand, swallowing up horses and men, all screaming alike in a great din. Massed archers fired from good positions above and a few gliders dropped packages of pitch with lye and rubber in a hot mix. Between the three-pronged attack, the Dragonbloods were in disarray, their lines ragged. It was then her warriors attacked the rearguard with spear-throwers and sword with screams and battle cries.

The disoriented dynasts found their attention taken by the rustics and missed the small detachment of the Mink 'army' heading through the fray and to the slaves. With menthol and prodding, they got the dazed and drugged captives from their keepers and away from the battlefield. Once it was done-taking two and a half hours-a few enterprising souls made off with all the goods they could carry and set the rest on fire. Mink Woman kept up the heat and led hit and run attacks as both forces withdrew. She heartily approved of the raiding and all her people led up a cheer. She felt joyous as her people whooped and shouted their success, even as the sun's light seemed to touch her, leaving a full circle within a circle on her forehead and equally bright joy within her heart.

The neomah followed the ragged caravan without approaching any of its members, as did the two Yozi-changed souls. For five nights, they traveled, the caravan growing more miserable and lost in the mixed mountainous and forested countryside until they came upon an isolated, sleepy village with almost every building carved and painted, a few inlaid like small palaces. They weren't exactly poor but they were of humble means aside from their beautiful homes and that was their pride. Most of them seemed to be skilled carvers and while not quite inbred, some people did openly stare at the armored men. Some shied away in fear, mothers herding curious children inside, away from the sight of such mighty and irritable travelers.

A fairly young girl boldly went forth, looking at the head of the line with none other beside herself. "I would like to speak to your commanding officer. I will offer food, fodder and beds for the officers and a warm barn and some basic rations for the common men so that you may rest and get a guide to lead you to Realm lands. We wish for no trouble." Some neighbors looked alarmed at her actions, but none prevented her.

Trouble had already opened its inky black wings of misfortune amongst them. The two unseen watchers could not yet guess who would be the new Infernal. She was brought to the commander, a proud man in his bearing. "My lord, I have within my power to offer food and bed to you and officers of your choosing, fodder for your horses and warm barns for your men. A guide will be provided when you leave to assist your journey home. I will personally see to some carved goods and offer of use of our carvers, whose good work you see-so long as we are left in peace. To you particularly, I offer the comfort and welcome of my home-but _not_ my bed. Please, we wish for no troubles and will help as we are able to." A brief disgust touched her face at the admonition of not sharing her bed.

The officer's face had darkened as she spoke, especially at her disgust. "You say you will only grant these things if we bide in peace? Foolish woman. What will stop the divine from taking their righteous fill?" Perhaps his shame had driven him mad, perhaps he feared and had lashed out at the first convenient target, perhaps greed was responsible or curse-nobody would ever know.

The woman was pale, realizing her mistake. "W-we are not your countrymen; we are not of the Realm. I give you due courtesy in the way of our people. Please- _please_ reconsider. You do a great wrong if you attack us, we are but a carving village!"

He was red as he struck her. "Do not raise your voice or presume speak-let alone question your better, peasant. That is what you are, mortal and peasant!"

She backed off. "Sir, we are honest folk, simple but not poor or bound to their land. I beg you as one of woman born, reconsider."

"Keep at your whining, will you? You shall be made an example of first." He turned to an officer. "Round up the people and their goods. Burn the houses, slaughter their animals and bind them. Save the largest buildings for the commanders and cut lumber to fence the peasants in. Wetted rawhide can bind the fence and either a few nails or pegs to stabilize them will do. Hurry and bind this woman. We'll make up the shipment but she'll be left as an example. Do it!" The man looked sheerly enraged, with something else in his face, something she recognized.

"Do you fear women, _divine one_?" She grew angry and braver, knowing she was doomed. "Then fear me well!" She took a carved wooden hair pick from her hair while he spoke and struck, able by sheer luck to draw blood.

That was the moment she _should_ have drew her second breath-instead, her insignificant victory soured into a savage beating, the enraged Terrestrial dumping her prone form to suffer and bleed in view of her now-enslaved people. It was food for thought while her people lost everything. Some resisted and were killed. She did not lose consciousness for the time she lay without being able to move without great pain, smoke rising with the screams and weeping coming from the people she loved as they were sacked-not all had gone peacefully. As the sun set, hatred and fury was born in her heart. It was aimed at both the Dragonbloods and her own foolishness. "Yellow Ribbon was right." She spoke through parched lips. "They are dogs."

It was then the neomah approached the woman meant to route armies and yet sooth tensions, who could have been a terror and a calming center to the fractured Empire in the name of the Unconquered Sun. "So they are. You are badly injured, broken in body and spirit-but there is a choice for you. You would not have much strength as a hungry ghost, but my master can offer you life, vengeance and great strength." They knelt by her, stroking her cheek tenderly.

The pained woman was indeed dying, bones digging into vitals. At best, she had but two hours further alone. "I don't want to die but who is your master?" She was barely audible, her voice more a thing of lips than breath.

The neomah seemed to understand her well enough. "The true king, the first sun and greatest of creators. He first pushed back the wyld and accursed fair folk and ruled creation until he was betrayed by his children and two siblings. He surrendered and was brought to torment in spite of his surrender, a beloved soul of his murdered, sundered. You can help him to regain his kingdom, to throw down those who hurt you. Malfeas has chosen you-but you must also choose _him_."

The youth let out a sob. "I want to live-and I want my vengeance." She sounded angry and grieved as tears fell down her face. "I accept."

It was with horrified shock that she saw the demon seem to rip itself apart-though she had not even breath enough to scream, it would have been silenced soon enough as flesh cocooned her. Two people came out of hiding and upon the grotesque chrysalis, knowing what it was. "Let's use the nearby woods, should be easy enough to make a little shack." Rat decided, peering at the fleshy cocoon.

"I have a cutting cable and axe." Shandiàn Huā picked up the chrysalis. "We'll need it-a storm's coming in."

Rat took a sniff. "Gaia must be thirsty. We'll hurry."

They spirited their way into the woods from which the town had gotten its livelihood and meat-there were no cattle, but goats had been kept, for milk and hair as well. The remnants ruminated and at at the grass in the grove they'd chosen. There had been weavers, though of middling quality. They'd long been known for their carving in any case. The small, rude shelter was built quickly enough between the two-it would at least keep most of the rain and wind out-and that was all that could be said for it. The duo used the time to spar with mind and body, preparing for the (basic) teaching to come.

Five days it took for the woman to be gestated, her soul and body reforged in a terrible new light. The pair backed up as the green light of Ligier shined through the cracks of what had been the neomah. From the shell burst free a maiden with dark, almost seemingly purple-tinged skin, the back of her scalp bare and the fore covered in goop-slickened black hair. As she pulled herself free, it became obvious that she was left unmarked by her attack, neither bones broken nor even the old marks of the village trade on her hands. She seemed disoriented as she looked at Rat and Shandiàn Huā. "Who-what- what is this feeling?" She murmured, groggily.

Shandiàn Huā handed her a robe. "Your new other self, your unwoven coadjuster. Relax. I am called Thunderer Shandiàn Huā, the miscreant is Prince Rat. We came late but we can help train you for vengeance and bring you where you'll meet your master. I am a princess, as are you now."

She took the robe and drew it over herself. She felt her head and looked at herself. "I'm... whole-if somewhat lacking in hair." She looked almost undisturbed by that, though shaken by likely the events prior. "How long did I sleep for?" She peered around at the familiar clearing, still curious.

"Five days. You'll be wanting to rest the next nights, because you aren't going out there to kill the soldiers without learning something about what you must do and it will take much pain and struggle to learn." Shandiàn Huā clasped a hand on her shoulder. "When I get through with you, you'll have begun to earn what you've been given."

It was every bit as demanding as the large woman had promised. "I refuse to touch the weapons. _I_ will be the weapon." This was four days later, Shandiàn Huā was testing her strength and stamina, Rat her speed, flexibility and wits. She was strong and smart, but not nearly as fast as Rat while not being hopeless. She did have great stamina, which surprised Thunderer.

Thunderer Shandiàn Huā knew the look on the young Green Sun Princess's face. It was furious pride and determination, the force that does not drink for forty days out of piety and cuts a bloody swath through things a person could not even consider without such conviction. "You will get weapons to help with that-boot, cestus. Then I will teach you arts that can help you survive this course. A buff jacket won't be too out of place for light protection, either. We're not immortal."

Shandiàn Huā's training had already been harsh-but it now grew harsher, the forest about them providing ample ways to train over the next seven days. "We must hurry-they'll travel slowly but we can go faster." Rat grinned as the two warrior women prepared, one with circles of leather for hammers and a wondrous set of armor no mortal could hope to bear, the other in a buff jacket, simple pants and simple wooden sandals. Rat and Shandiàn Huā were intrigued by her hands using tools scavenged from the wreckage of the village, precious mother-of-pearl inlay with curls of brass and green glass forming a serene yet mildly terrifying mask of pale wood. It was some time after midnight when they prepared to leave. "What is that about?" Rat asked her, indicating the mask with a hand.

"There is a legend of a warrior in the village long ago who bore a mask. They will know the meaning when they see me." She spoke up soberly.

"Wonderful. Let's get going." Rat looked a bit curious but dubious.

She fitted it cleverly, brushing the hair out from underneath it. "Agreed."

They mounted the agatae steeds, the maiden sitting badly. "Oh, by the Shadow-you've never ridden, have you?" Rat looked disbelieving.

"A very docile mule, perhaps. Long ago." The woman kept the reigns in whitened hands, her face determined but clearly lost on what to do.

"Sit with me!" Both of her teachers announced at once.

She chose the Slayer.

Shandiàn Huā smirked at the Fiend, who made exaggerated expressions of pouting at her. The agatae was sent back to Malfeas quickly enough and they set off. Upon the demon mounts, they made good time. It was nearly dawn when they landed. They did not rest but ran lightly over the muddied ground that was half wetland-or rather Rat and the younger Princess did. In superheavy plate, one stomps when running, no matter what is done. The two women rested at sundown, Shandiàn Huā guzzling down small beer and the other woman doing the same with water out of other bladders. Rat himself got to casting.

Shandiàn Huā had carried Rat for three hours, now the young woman knew why. "Go with him tonight. We should overtake them by predawn if he is right."

"Sooner. These parts are all swamp-I wouldn't be surprised if they lost horses." The young woman knelt by the edge of the solid patch they'd stopped on, touching the moist ground. "You almost got stuck yourself, too when we went on foot."

Shandiàn Huā gave no comment to the last observation. "Excellent. We'll start the killing sooner than I thought."

There was no sign of emotion in the younger Slayer's mask, though it seemed to the older that perhaps the eyes glowed green. Perhaps she was just seeing her own reflection in the mother-of-pearl that had been salvaged-perhaps not. The three set off on the summoned agatae, the masked youth before Rat, Shandiàn Huā riding alone. "You're about to see why she's called 'Thunderer'-pay attention so you can most properly view her great prowess." He flew his a slightly different route than her, giving her a wide berth.

The company's remnant loomed ahead and as they flew over, Shandiàn Huā drew her hammers and banged the heads together before leaping off her mount. Archers were yelled for but to no avail as a fury bearing twin hammers landed on two fighters and blood was soon flowing. Rat landed near but a bit of way off. "Go forth and do mayhem in the name of Malfeas!" He told her cheerily. "- _and remember: you owe us for this_."

She approached the massed men, unreadable in her mask, dauntless and merciless. She began to move and aside her, cestus in hand was Rat and though it wasn't the brilliant viridian fury of Shandiàn Huā, they began carving a bloody swath in the ragged forces. Screaming echoed from the battlefield, the once 150-strong group down to 52 by the time the three got to it-and now, the luckless found itself being decimated down even further.

They fought their way around the chained captives, looking worse for the wear after forced marching. One looked at the mask-a youth in ragged clothing and chains-and they began rallying the captives. Soon they were cheering on the three hellish warriors as they began freeing one another. The leader captain stepped out of a wagon when ten were left, yelling "Rally! Rally! Truce, truce, _truce_!"

The three approached the three. "You take the others. I'll talk to this _man_ myself." The voice was cold, incandescent fury under a modicum of control.

He approached them, looking first to Rat and Shandiàn Huā. "We surrender! We don't want to die! We just want to bring what's left of our cargo home-surely we can come to an agreement."

Rat smiled mirthfully and spoke in his strange accent. "It is not _us_ two you need to convince, boyo." He stepped aside and smiled beauteously at the maiden. " _She_ is."

He frowned and looked at the exalt as she removed her mask. He choked as he recognized her. "- _you._ " He wore a look of horror. "You lay in that sty for hours! You should have died! Are you a-"

"No, she is _not_ , you imbecile." Shandiàn Huā snarled in correction. "She is not one of the dead nor of the Deathknights."

The woman's face did not change. "I _almost_ died-but that does not concern you now. What _should_ is convincing me not to make the rest of your life complete agony." Understanding dawned as she spoke again, this time turning to look at his surviving men. "Kneel now. Kneel or lose your heads." Four bent the knee right away, prostrate in terror. Five more followed more slowly.

Rat's smirk grew as he and Shandiàn Huā drew blades and reduced the remaining company to ten. "Now, good sir-you should start begging for your life. Perhaps for times of lucidity to appreciate the mercy of our _dear_ sister."

"I-I-" He stammered. "- _please no, no, no, no!_ " His voice rose into a panicked shriek.

The nine silent soldiers that chose to bend the knee kept their faces to the ground as he was bound, the larger Slayer kicking him a few times until it became confused burbles. "He'll recall this day fondly." Shandiàn Huā commented. "I will keep him while you decide what to do with the surrendering soldiers-and while you become acclimated to your future duties. That will require time but my home has a good place for him to remain while you find your feet."

The maiden stepped forward and looked at the soldiers. "You are all wiser than you know-strip off your armor, your fine clothes." The men hurried until they were in small clothes. "Here my command to all of you: they will protect what they tried to take. You will accept them as part of the village. Let no one treat them unfairly or risk my displeasure."

She looked to the youth that stepped forward, ligatures on her hands, her clothes dirty. "You're-it's the old hero! Remember the legends our grandparents always told us? We were once a nation unlike any other, with the queen who danced and sang sweetly with even the poorest of beggars?" The youth spoke eloquently, smiling proudly with tears of gratitude on their face.

The ragged villages looked on their hellish rescuers and gave hail, bowing. The maiden looked at the mask and then them. She looked exhausted, more than anything. "Do this then for your hero: Go from this place. Follow the setting sun, find a people to teach you to survive. Stay together and let the Dragonbloods protect you as they should have and tell none that they did not come from the village. You must teach them new ways and if they should have family before, their ties are cut unless they would bring their family to our ways as well. For those that wish, they may marry in the village according to old rites. I will return to lead and build you-but I have a new duty and to fill it, I may be gone much of the time. Let who would lead, lead by example. Shandiàn Huā." She turned. More quietly: "How might they give honor to my new master?"

The slayer stepped forward. "Let prayers you would send to her be sent to the Brass Dancer, let this be the private faith of your people. Let your prayers be ecstatic dances in things of green and jewelry of brass. The Brass Dancer is joyous, fierce and free with his joy. Know that this is one of his many forms and that your savior-and myself-were saved by this great being. He has chosen special ones for his work-and you will see many terrible signs in the time to come; know that it is due to him. Grow strong and find a new place while you await this great working. Let no man lay with woman until your traveling is done. Let any man who gives into the temptation be whipped, the woman to be outcast for seven nights unless there is reason to believe she did not invite the man-then her exile shall be three nights, accompanied by sisters to keep her company and him buried skinless in the sands. Learn to fight from these men, so none will ever take advantage of you again. Turn your clever hands to staves and clubs and learn to wield them. If you let your hands know weapons as well as they know chisels, you will truly be masters of your own fates."

The group was between weeping and cheers. "This way, dears." Rat led the women away from the exiles, to the north.

The villagers followed the youth who'd spoken up for them west, to their respective destinies. The trio, the bound commander on Shandiàn Huā's armored shoulder still, found their way into one of the cavernous hollows, the inside large enough to where a good-sized home could sit, protected from the harsh southern winds, sand and be shaded from its heat enough for water to collect into a small oasis-but no such thing sat in the low dunes. Rat took out what looked to be a small bladder, damp with… _something_. The new Slayer took off her mask, wiping it off with a cloth, taking away the salt of her evaporated sweat. She hung the decorated wood at her chest, watching Rat painstakingly lay with the liquid a curious pattern over the dunes. He muttered, though neither Shandiàn Huā nor the maiden heard it. To wit: "That cheat better have given me the real deal, I'll render him into chalcanth if he didn't and toast his memory in the shadow of the Ebon Dragon, I swear…"

Neither knew and assumed only that he'd been casting something, not cursing the demon he had bought the bag and its mysterious contents from. When full darkness fell, a sound like and unlike wind and cruel laughter echoed throughout the protected cave, then perfect silence as an arched gateway seemed to open up in the rock onto a desert that at first, seemed implacable as the one at their back-if not for the green light gleaming upon the far crueler sands of the Lawmaker Princess, Cecedyne. Sand blew through the portal, some of it mingling with the semi-arid desert behind them.

"At the Brass City, we must part-people to kill, demons to placate, a master to worry at-you know the score." Rat told them breezily as they stepped through. The gate closed behind them, a sense like a door being thrown shut behind them. It was a disheartening sound. Rat patted the maiden's back. "Don't worry-we can go in and out _pretty much_ as we please-mind you, it's a five day journey across a desert, but that's where 'pretty much' comes into play."

Shandiàn Huā snorted as they walked. "You mean you'll go through at least three bordellos before attending to your usual business, Rat?"

Rat laughed. "Just the same as you finding luckless sparring targets?"

" _Partners._ "

"Targets-they haven't a chance of beating you and you know it."

The maiden said very little as they traveled, carefully rationing out their supplies of potable water-dehydration was an all-too easy way to die and not a pleasant passing by far. A human being could go far longer without food than water-but she need not had to worry. Shandiàn Huā and Rat knew how to navigate Cecedyne and ask courteously for the correct path to Malfeas. The young Slayer watched and listened to their banter and kept to herself. Soon enough, a layer of the black urban body of Malfeas came into view and then loomed larger and larger until they entered. Above all things shone a green sun-Ligier, that never changed position and shed light always upon the city and everything connected with it aside those under the Ebon Dragon's shadow. "Welcome to the city-body of our patron and master, Malfeas."

Rat did as he said-if two hours late. He parted from them and went elsewhere while Shandiàn Huā walked her along a road. "Try not to look away from the road or jump off, you will fall if you jump." The large Slayer warned before the road took impossible turns that made her feel vertigo.

The bottoms of the maiden's sandals were cracking, her pants and buff jacket obviously having suffered battle with the telltale tears and encrusted, now brown blood. Demons came and went while paying scant attention, as well as some skittering individuals wrapped in ragged multiple cloaks, a few she was able to recognize as humans to her surprise. Most notable to her as she walked were the walking musicians and the great din that was being produced everywhere. Everyone was making noise, if it was calling out, cursing, singing, clapping, snapping fingers or playing instruments. "What are they doing? Why is there so much noise?" The maiden asked.

Shandiàn Huā ushered her through the teeming masses. "Adorjan, the Silent Wind doesn't like any noise. It keeps it less likely for her to come paying a visit, as her silence kills most beings in her wake. It doesn't work all of the time, though." Shandiàn Huā replied back, explaining to the Slayer. "In that event, people will hide in the habitable buildings. Not that it will truly stop her when she runs through the streets. There is also no night. Ligier, the green sun and the most important soul-the one that defines him as his fetich soul. It is to him that I take you though you will meet the most important of his souls-Third and Second circle souls, those being most powerful and important.

The districts had similar feels, though the sun's light seemed less cruel and the demons better dressed and organized in the more favored neigh. Less urchins, more organization. Shandiàn Huā went into one of the taller buildings, the door frame clearly recently hewn, though the windows on the first floor seemed to be much older, the shutters were just as new as the door. Shandiàn Huā called out to the demons that scurried to receive her. "I'm back-and going up top. I have an errand in the ballroom."

"Another new one, eh? That's the second this season." One that seemed to be in charge of the others commented. "And it looks like she brought a pet, too. Is that a new fad? A wyld-touched hound one week, a Dragonblood slave the next? What's next? Inviting the Silent Wind to dog their steps?" A demon gave them a baleful eye as it went to them.

"Take him to a room, give him a chamber pot, untie him and impress on him the dangers of stepping out of that room. Feed him enough to survive. Plain food, he is to live for a long time-if he likes it or not." Shandiàn Huā unloaded the Dragonblood, ungracefully allowing him to hit the floor.

The demon smiled widely with a barely contained glee. "Of course, mistress." He accepted pro-offered hammers as well, placing the super heavy plate on a special stand that seemed to have grown from the wall. He hauled off the former commander up a set of stairs.

"This way. The way of our particular fellows is that each is presented for communion with the souls of their patrons. For you, it is him who blessed our caste, the peerless warriors. Your caste mark is that of crossed swords and you'll find yourself drawn to… certain goals. For us: destruction and the ways of bloody mayhem is what our urges draw us too." She spared a glance to the maiden, who looked back with understanding dawning. "Ah yes, you've felt it."

She followed Shandiàn Huā up to an open-roofed ballroom. Its reveal was a curiousity to the maiden, who had never seen one. Shandiàn Huā faced the green sun and called out. "Lord Ligier, I invite you to my tower." Her voice was strong and lovely, pitched to carry.

The demon that landed and faced her was within comprehension because he was a single component of something bigger-the yozi king himself. Ligier was a man of seemingly middle-age, "Ah, yes-you have been expected." He spoke mildly.

Shandiàn Huā spoke up, lavishing praise on the young Princess. "She did very well, my lord-the girl was able to face many heavily armed and armored Dynasts barehanded and with only a buff jacket. I don't think I had such potential myself when I first drew second breath-so much for so very young."

The girl flushed at the praise and she clutched nervously at the mask. "Though it is of little import, I do ask-how old are you?" His eyes went up and down her body, more matter of fact appraisal than anything else.

She opened her mouth and took a moment. "Fifteen, my lord." She spoke clearly, her voice nervous.

He looked thoughtful at that-was he surprised? "So young. Not many exalt at that age, but you will do. Come with me. You have to be presented to all my fellow higher souls of Malfeas, maiden."

When of a particular age, a Dynast will have a party celebrating their coming of age, with presents and cavorting, then given choice between a lover often painted gold and a lover often painted silver-but for most others,  
hey would never have such a thing. Her coming of age was the gift of vengeance, power unimaginable to most mortals and communion with one of bronze. None are ever the same after such communion-never.

She left them, whatever name given to her at birth before no longer applicable.


End file.
